


Love Never Fails Us

by Val_Creative



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien/Human Relationships, Allura (Voltron)-centric, Back to Earth, Canon Rewrite, Developing Relationship, F/F, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Femslash, Femslash February, Friendship, Galaxy Garrison, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Kissing, Not Canon Compliant, Nudity, Outer Space, Politics, Polyamory, Post-Season/Series 06, Post-Voltron Lion Swap, Romantic Friendship, VLD Lady Love Bang 2018, VLD Lady Love Bang 2019, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 16:51:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17832434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: After escaping imprisonment from the Galaxy Garrison, and Earth’s milia-run government, Allura and the paladins refocus on getting the Castle of Lions back. She and Romelle find comfort in each other and their Altean heritage, blossoming into a romantic friendship, and during this, Allura realizes herself and Pidge may be feeling the same way towards each other.





	Love Never Fails Us

**Author's Note:**

> YES! OKAY! It's time for posting my work for [VLD Lady Love Bang](https://vldladylovebang.tumblr.com)! I'm so thrilled to share this with you guys! The setting is Post-S6 but nothing about S7 or S8 so it's alternate canon. It's a mix of Pidge/Allura and Allura/Romelle but not quite OT3! There's beautiful art done by [lapitalii](https://lapitalii.tumblr.com/) right at the beginning of this fic (the art itself is clickable link to the source!) so PLEASE please go click on it and reblog/comment on their art. It's the most gorgeous thing and I'm very honored wwowowow!
> 
> Thanks for checking this out! Any comments/thoughts are super duper appreciated! :)

[ ](https://lapitalii.tumblr.com/post/182900368589/this-illustration-was-my-contribution-to-the-lady)

*

**LOVE NEVER FAILS US**

*

Sometimes, when Allura closes her eyes, she can envision the shimmering green fields of Altea.

Every petal of the juniberry flowers, lush and delicate and violet. Fluffy, white seeds and stems of taraxcum nudge Allura's bare, dark brown toes, as she wanders through the bristly and mud-squishy grass.

(Could it be a lifetime ago?)

"I remember looking out to the courtyard, and smelling the dawn's air, right before I heard my mother calling to me," Allura murmurs, keeping her eyelids shut. In a way, she's glad for it. There's nothing to be anticipated of the titanium-plated barrack walls in all directions, or the dimness of their surroundings. "She disapproved of me being unaccompanied. Even on the royal grounds."

Romelle scoots herself against their shared, thin cot-bedding. "What was it like?" she asks, too eagerly for their circumstances. But perhaps she has the right idea in being distracted.

They've been trapped in this cramped, grey room for who truly knows how long.

Allura supposes it must be several quintants based on the occasional, lukewarm meal. It must be very deep underground, right below the facility she has heard being referred to as "Galaxy Garrison" by others.

Voltron's paladins flew to Earth's coordinates quickly to seek aid and haven, after the ruin of the Castle of Lions — but they were all met with Earth's distrust upon arrival, as their governed, hostile military called for a full, unconditional surrender of their Lions, or to suffer the consequences.

Allura, and the rest of her team, soon discovered that Keith's desert-shack had been set aflame and all of its important documents and maps concerning Voltron's mysteries been stolen.

Hunk, Pidge, Lance, Keith and Shiro were considered fugitives… but herself, Coran, Romelle and Krolia were an even bigger threat. Aliens were to be subdued and subjected to the practice of extreme, deadly caution. Allura does not know the fate of Coran and Krolia, or of the paladins, when the sudden, nighttime ambush took place, and no humans has offered to soothe Allura's fears.

Earth is much like the Galran Empire, she thinks to herself — led by madness and greed and a twisted form of morality, seeking to destroy those who are unfamiliar, but also each other.

Allura opens her eyes, viewing the dimness and the piercing, bright-tender quality of Romelle's lavender eyes. It somehow lessens the weight of Allura's tightening chest, or the metal, fitted shock-collar locked around Allura's throat. The same type of collar blinking red underneath Romelle's chin.

"Soft. Safe." Allura breathes out, her lips curling upwards, her fingers trembling within Romelle's pale hands on hers. "Full of warmth and light and smiling faces. I never wanted to leave."

Nothing but grey is in every corner of Allura's vision — in rags they wear upon imprisonment, in their food, and in the hardened, poorly sewn bedding upon the floor they sleep.

"I would give anything to have shown you my home. Altea, _oese homa_ , where we are from."

Romelle's eyes fill up with unshed, glittering tears. She's hardly known this other Altean for any proper length of time before their capture, but Allura would doubtless shield her from harm.

Fighting for her people and those she considers her friends and family would be no internal battle.

Allura feels the caress of a pair of lips, hovering against Allura's mouth, and then Romelle's cheek pressing gently on hers, as the other Altean woman embraces her. It takes a long, heart-pounding tick for Allura to realize the significance of such a gesture. "If your ladyship is any indication of Altea's kindness and its majesty… I believe I already can glimpse it," Romelle whispers shyly.

They separate. All of the warm, pleasant feelings between them vanishing as the hidden, titanium-steel door whirs and grinds deafeningly loud to open. Allura puts herself sternly between the door and a wide-eyed Romelle, eyeing the blur of a man standing in the fluorescent-light and his… pet wolf?

"… … Keith?"

Despite the utter confusion in Allura's voice, the other Altean woman hops onto her naked, dirty feet and races to him, throwing herself into a momentarily startled Keith's arms. The tinge of a luminous purple from his Blades of Marmora's uniform forms a contrast against ugly, drowning greyness.

"Keith, you're here!" Romelle cries out, grinning and staring him in the face. "You're alright!" A whining, affectionate growl sounds from Cosmo as he jumps on Keith and Romelle, licking their faces.

Allura doesn't even notice Pidge at first, walking over and attaching a tiny, white cord to Allura's shock-collar, lowering her eyes and tapping on her wrist holo-console to her armor. She looks as exhausted as Allura feels, her shoulders tensing, and those huge, bruise-dark circles under Pidge's eyes.

"Sorry we're late for the rescue mission," she explains, mumbling. "I needed Keith to come with me for all the fighting. There's soldiers everywhere inside the garrison, and then there were more in their prison facility down here. And before that, I had to create a virus to bypass the security mechanisms on the collars they built, zapping out their core-energy that sustains them, and then—"

The blinking red-light beneath Allura's chin switches to a flat, solid green, before darkening.

Pidge unlocks the heavy, metal shock-collar, tossing it aside. Allura inhales and wordlessly rubs over her burn-scars mottled a fleshy, wrinkled pink against smooth and dark brown skin.

Nothing aches as much as Pidge's vacant expression falling apart, revealing her concern. Fingertips bump over Allura's hand closing over her own sore neck. Pidge nods grimly, as if understanding the silent command, retreating from Allura's space. "Where is Coran and everyone else?"

"They're fine," she replies to Allura's question. "We're leaving Earth for good right now."

A surge of overwhelming joy and thrill claims her. Allura smiles along with it, laughing quietly and wrapping her arms around her dear friend. She twirls them, nearly lifting a squawking, flustered Pidge off her tiptoes. "It's so, so wonderful to see you, Pidge!"

"U-uh, yeah," Pidge says lowly, her face flushing red. "You t-too, Allura."

Once she sets Pidge done, the younger woman dismantles Romelle's shock-collar, receiving another hug and becoming even more obviously flustered, groaning _wedonthavetimeforthis!_ as a excuse.

Keith peers in from wandering the adjacent corridor, shouting. Cosmo growls and bristles his fur.

(It's time to go.)

*

Once all of the paladins of Voltron, and their associates, are comfortably floating along some star-system without being traced, Allura hears what she needs — and what she dreads too.

Earth's militia-run government and its space branch have started developing technological advances, in order to communicate with alien life, but also harvest any resources they come across, including the lives themselves. Allura thinks on what she has heard of Lotor's colony and suppresses a white-hot quiver of both sorrow and rage. How dare anyone go to such lengths… how could he…

"Dr. Holt told the garrison about his experience with quintessence," Shiro announces, running a hand through his silvery-white hair. "Iverson and all military officials want a piece of it now."

"Like hell they will get it," Pidge mutters, visibly fuming. She storms out.

Nobody tries to stop her.

Keith had given a signal to the leader of the Blades, nearly eighteen vargas ago. Kolivan managed to locate a large spacecraft that can hold three Lions — but not all of them. The plan currently was to transport and drop off the Blue Lion and the Green Lion on Olkarion, securing them for future use.

For now, Allura can accept this. Her connection to the Blue Lion had never been as powerful or strong as Lance's connection. She does not blame her for treating Allura as an outsider.

By herself in one of the closed-off quarters, she examines herself in a mirror, every curve without her garments and every loosened, curly strand of hair. Allura frowns pensively, massaging her fingertips over the path of the healing, lightened neck-scars and trying to not wince.

(Perhaps that's all she will ever be — _outside to it all_.)

Pidge marches in, the door sliding quietly out of existence. "So I got in contact with Ryner who might know a guy who can help—" Her mouth falls wide-open, as Allura stares bemused at Pidge's now gobsmacked, reddening features. " _Quiznak_ —" she mutters, abruptly looking away.

Oh.

_Ohh._

Allura bashfully looks towards another direction, grabbing a colorless, silken robe and pulling it on.

"You, um… you good?"

Pidge's voice sounds hoarse and breathless.

"Yes, thank you," Allura tells her softly, motioning to her when Pidge's brown, squinting eyes glance back. The younger woman clears her throat and refuses to approach her, not too closely.

"Ryner agreed to help us with getting the castleship back. We gotta just head her way."

"This is excellent news, Pidge!" Allura says, not bothering to hide her enthusiasm. She cants her head, glimpsing as Pidge's mouth flattens. Like earlier, guilt hangs heavy on her. "It's not your fault for what happened, or your father's own. He wanted to help us," Allura reassures her, clasping Pidge's shoulder and rubbing down to her upper arm. "I doubt any of us could have seen this—"

Her words disappear into a small, surprised noise when Pidge hugs her fiercely, tightly, closing her eyes and furrowing her brows. Over the deca-phoebs, she's grown taller, broader and compact. Allura can still rest her chin against the top of Pidge's head and returns the hug, cupping Pidge's nape.

There's nothing motherly about how she presses her lips fondly against Pidge's hair, against the tip of her nose, and then pressing their mouths sliding together, kissing deeply. They exhale in the same trembling, eager beat while pale-and-brown hands search impatiently and blindly, colliding into each other, hoisting up the edge of Pidge's tee-shirt and wrinkling Allura's silken, ivory robe.

Faint, amused laughter echoes the heavenly-lit quarters.

*

With a cheerful hum, Pidge slowly makes her towards the spacecraft's mini-laboratory.

She'll admit — the idea of casually fooling around didn't ever seem like an especially attractive hobby. Her forearm scrubs absentmindedly to Pidge's red-raw, kiss-bitten lips. Hopefully she won't have to mentally eat at her own words at some point.

Nobody has to know her business.

Rounding the corner, someone bumps into her awkwardly and jarringly, squealing high-pitched.

Pidge grunts, fixing her glasses.

"Jeez—you okay?"

Romelle's face lights up as she recognizes Pidge, greeting her and then leaning in. Her nostrils flare.

Pidge blinks, disturbed by the lack of personal space, leaning out as far as she can as the Altean woman sniffs the air and then claps her hands over her mouth dramatically. Romelle blushes a hot, pasty pink, blurting out something Pidge thinks is Altean syllables, and hurries away.

The other, younger woman stares after her with an eyebrow raise, grunting dismissively and shrugging.

*

To be in the constant presence of another female Altean is… a _blessing_.

An unexpected one.

Romelle has their slim, gorgeous ears and the palest of blue half-moons imprinted to her cheekbones.

She's only sorry that Romelle fell into this misfortune along with Allura and suffered.

Allura settles herself on the edge of the makeshift, plush bed and taps underneath the other woman's chin, waiting for her to lift her head obediently. Upon examination, she can conclude that the burn-marks around Romelle's throat fade away with a blackish-purple hue. "How does it feel?"

"Better, my lady."

" _Allura_ ," she corrects her, flashing a good-natured smile as Romelle shyly lowers her eyes and wiggles in place. "Please call me Allura. You are my very good friend, Romelle. That much is certain."

The rest of the occupants of the spacecraft have either chosen to nap or hang around the bridge's command-center. Allura chooses to spend time alone with Romelle, in their shared quarters, listening to her gentlest and harshest memories — and discussing her own about Altea, about Voltron.

"I smelled you on her…"

Allura wouldn't call it tension that mounts between them, but she's uncertain of the manner to Romelle's softly spoken observation, or her little, disappointed pout. It's been proven for generations that Alteans have a certain sharp sense of smell, as odd as it seems — and how anyone non-Altean has a different, harsher odor naturally clinging to them. Allura eventually got used to it around her paladins.

"Pidge?" she replies, expecting the firm nod from Romelle.

Allura sucks in a deep, cleansing breath, shutting her eyes briefly and circling her palm over her heart.

"What Pidge and I share is a very _special_ bond… I've known her for as long as I've been awake. She's willing to die for me, and I would for her without hesitation." Allura gazes back to a teary-eyed and smiling Romelle, who repeats the Altean palm-motion over her heart. "The paladins are like my family, as Pidge is, but it goes deeper. I will admit I am unsure if lovers is the correct term either…"

Relief washes over her, making her lightheaded and calmer, as Romelle gladly clasps onto Allura's hands into hers. "Does that bother you?" Allura ventures to ask, watching the immediate head-shake.

"I…" A blaze of pink crawls over Romelle's face. Allura resists the sudden, sweet urge to press their foreheads and cheeks and lips together, over and over, to drink in all of her warmth and beauty. "I would like my feelings to be realized too," Romelle whispers, all of that hope gleaming in her lavender eyes trickling with moisture. "One quintant… maybe…"

And she does, for an instant, kissing Romelle's mouth and then pushing their cheeks together, grinning. "They already are," Allura whispers back, slipping her fingers gently into pale-blonde hair.

It's how love grounds them, and herself, keeping Allura from standing on the outside.

She's never sorry for her convictions, or her love.

*

 


End file.
